


Ghost

by transmarkcohen



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 15:10:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17664899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transmarkcohen/pseuds/transmarkcohen
Summary: Unreliable narrator as fuck, that’s what I am.





	Ghost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HeadlinesBreadlinesBlowMyMind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeadlinesBreadlinesBlowMyMind/gifts).



You see a lot of things when you’re a ghost. 

 

Some that you want to - plane tickets don’t matter, I’ve been to Beijing twice - and others...that you wish could be scrubbed from your memory forever. 

 

Roger, believe her. Your dick really isn’t that big, dude. 

 

You learn things, too. (Such as whether your former roommate-of-almost-three-month’s dick is really that big.) 

 

Mainly, who misses you. And who comes to your funeral. 

 

Collins came. I was in his first class at MIT. Maureen came. I didn’t know her that well, but I slept with her at some party. Roger came. He was my roommate. Officer Martin came. He gave me a speeding ticket once. I’m not sure how he even remembered who I was. 

 

I checked the grave a few days later. My mom was there. Standing in front of it, silent and still. 

 

Wearing her oh-so-fancy leopard coat that reaches just down to the knees and tights in 30 degree weather and high heels and that stupid fucking rhinestone purse. 

 

I watched. You ever hear the expression “to spit on a grave”? 

 

Yeah, that’s what she did. 

 

“Good riddance, you ridiculous pile of...ugh, such a waste of space,” she said. “I would’ve taken you out myself if I could. Thank God he got to you first.” She turned away and promptly headed towards the Met, probably to donate money and act like she was a good person. 

 

I don’t like talking about how I died. It’s not a good story, it’s not very exciting...fact is it happened and I’m here now. 

 

Recounting everything to the ghost of Mozart. 

 

Old Wolfgang - hold on, can I call him that? - yeah he says it’s alright. He looks deep in thought. 

 

He lifts up his head from where it rested on his collarbone and looks me in the eye. “Your mother wasn’t good?” He asks. 

 

I shake my head. “No,” I say. “Not really. She’d buy nice things to get us to shut up. And she made her money from - well, Cindy wasn’t even my sister. Once she was old enough, she discovered that she’d been a kidnapped child. Ran away immediately. She’s good now. My case wasn’t so easy. Because I  _ am  _ that woman’s biological child.” 

 

“Wow,” Mozart says softly. “Your life sounds like a dramatic opera.” 

 

“Believe me, I  _ know.”  _

 

I sink down to the ground just in front of my gravestone. I don’t need to read the letters anymore. I’ve got them memorized. 

 

I perk my head up when I hear the gate to the cemetery opening. “Visitors!” I exclaim. “Once they come in, I’ll go out.” 

 

Mozart gives a curt nod and disappears, back to Vienna to haunt a tiny chapel. 

 

The rules of barriers for ghosts are weird - of course we can float through walls and fly and all that, but God forbid you pass a door or a gate. Somebody has to open it for you. I think it’s kind of like vampires. Where they have to be invited in? I think that’s what it’s like. It’s just such a weird thing that walls aren’t a problem but gates are. I’m thinking about the mechanics of this when I notice two boots on the grass in front of my grave. I recognize the boots. Oh my God, is he-? 

 

I look up. The face I see isn’t Roger but a darker skinned woman with impossibly curly hair. Wearing Roger’s jacket. I hear more boots crunching leaves to the left and, sure enough, it’s Roger. I turn to look at him. 

 

He looks  _ good.  _

 

“Well, here we are,” Roger laughs, awkwardly gesturing at my grave. Is he alright being here? I overheard Collins saying he was impossibly depressed after my death. Took up drugs. 

“This was...my old roommate. Mark. That was his name. He was alright.” 

 

_ Alright?!  _ Excuse you- 

 

The woman smiles. God, she’s beautiful. “You knew him for three months, right?” She asks. “And he died so soon…” 

 

Oh god. No. Please don’t talk about it. 

 

“He wouldn’t want us to talk about his cause of death,” Roger tells her. 

 

_ Yes!  _ Thank you, thank you,  _ thank you,  _ Roger! 

 

He wraps his arms around the woman and brings her to him. They kiss. 

 

What the fuck. 

 

I stand up. Who is this woman? Does Roger have a girlfriend now? 

 

He just barely breaks away and murmurs a word-“Mimi”-And then goes back to kissing her. 

 

Mimi? Her name is Mimi? Like in the old Puccini opera? 

 

“Well, actually, Roger…” Mimi says, breaking away a little further. “I don’t know if the idea I had is respectful…” 

 

Roger smiles. “Oh yeah?” 

 

She leans up-she’s so much shorter than him-and whispers something in his ear. A blush immediately floods Roger’s cheeks with a shade of red. 

 

“It’s kinda cold, isn’t it?” He says. 

 

Oh god are they gonna- 

 

Mimi confirms my fear by slowly removing the jacket she’s wearing-Roger’s jacket-and then pulling off her top. 

 

Should I look? Is that polite? I mean they don’t know I’m here. Oh God are they gonna have sex on my grave? Actually that’s kinda kinky. Wait can I even get horny? 

 

So many thoughts are rushing through my head and I think half of them are how hot Mimi is.  _ God,  _ she’s hot. She has to be a- 

 

“You ever do something like this at the Catscractch?” Roger asks, chuckling. 

 

-stripper. I was right. 

 

A playful smile dances on Mimi’s lips. “No,” she says. She pushes Roger to the ground-on the grave next to mine, alright then-and then finishes undressing herself. 

 

_ How are they not cold?! _

 

_ “Mmm,  _ Mimi…” Roger’s hands grasp the back of her neck and pull her closer to him. They keep kissing. Wow, Roger’s hands are big. Contrary to the typical belief, big hands actually compensate, instead of represent. 

 

He flips them so that he’s on top. He removes his shirt and discards it onto the pile of Mimi’s clothes and his jacket. He unbuttons his jeans and slides them off, along with his underpants…this is kinda gross…

 

They both clearly forget that condoms are a thing when he pushes into her. They’re so close, bodies moving, pulsing together as one… they’re in a graveyard. 

 

Question solved: Yes, ghosts can get horny. 

 

So Roger keeps thrusting. And Mimi moans. And that’s about all that happens for a half on hour until they hear somebody walk by. Roger presses close to Mimi and they try to stay as quiet as possible, act like they’re not there. 

 

When the person is gone they laugh, relieved, and Roger goes back to thrusting, so much harder this time. 

 

I did not ask for a live porn show next to my grave. 

 

But fuck it. I’ll enjoy it. 


End file.
